It Means He Likes You
by Starving For Attention
Summary: Nothing about tonight was normal. He would love it to be normal, to be routine. He would love for tonight to happen every night for the rest of his life. But she's twice the woman he deserves, and he's half the man she desires.


**Written for the prompt: Ziva/Jimmy/It means he likes you, with the intention to contribute to the severe lack of Zimmy fics out there! Enjoy!**

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><p><em>Don't say it first. Don't say anything at all unless she speaks first. They'll know. One word out of your mouth and they'll see right through you. You always did make a better window than a lock.<em>

_That didn't make any sense. _

_Don't think about it too hard. You'll look confused and even less appealing than you normally look to her. She's smart, and confident, and possesses all the qualities in a woman that would make her fall for the guy _next_ to you._

_You don't want to seem needy. Or clingy._

_This is not a big deal._

_It never happened._

_What never happened?_

He tried to be polite, a forced half-smile stretching across half of his awkward face, maintained for twice the amount of time that would have normally been deemed appropriate. _Normally_. He didn't think that word was even in his vocabulary any longer. Nothing about tonight was normal. He would love it to be normal, to be routine. He would love for tonight to happen every night for the rest of his life. But she's twice the woman he deserves, and he's half the man she desires.

"_I have a little bit of a dilemma."_

He passed McGee's desk without incident. Unless "incident" includes McGee's raised eyebrows. No big deal. McGee doesn't think much of him anyway. Eyebrow-raising is normal, right? Normal for McGee, at least, because nothing about Palmer was normal. Not now, not ever.

"_I'm not sure of—what precisely is the normal way to kiss your fiancée—your wife—after you just get married?"_

She had furrowed her eyebrows in the most adorable way. Not the kind of adorable that people mean when they call him adorable—ruffling hair and cheek-pinching—but adorable as in the "able to be adored" sort of way. More than just able_—_not_ un_able.

She had thought back to the handful of weddings she had been to, never having experienced one of her own. She had demonstrated with her lips, puckering them slightly, her eyes wide and her eyebrows raised in an expectant sort of way. _Is this what you wanted?_

It's everything he wanted.

He was approaching her desk now. He could just make out Tony's fixed gaze out of his peripheral vision. He tried to ignore him.

"_But it should be more special than just a peck, right? It's our first kiss as husband and wife. It should be passionate! But it's in also in a Catholic church—Breena's Catholic and I didn't feel strongly enough about the issue to argue the point—so I don't think we should give the big man upstairs too much of a show, right? I mean, what would you do?"_

Everything had come tumbling out of his mouth faster than his mind had time to process what he had just asked, and she had taken a step toward him before his brain and his mouth had synchronized. She took his hands in hers.

"_It does not need to be messy to be passionate."_

He could feel her breath against his face. Her eyes were locked with his. He was afraid to look away.

Her eyes were warm, in color and in purpose. His lenses sharpened the shape of her lashes, which fluttered and teased him with every blink.

"_Just look her in the eye, and think about the woman that you're marrying."_

He was thinking of everything but.

"_And the rest will come easily."_

If his life were a movie, she would have kissed him and showed him how it was supposed to be done. He thought of Robbie and Julia—except he was Drew Barrymore and she was Adam Sandler, he was questioning and she was ready, he cherished a spark and she let it burn.

But his life wasn't a movie.

Tony would have been proud of the reference. Speaking of which, he was still staring at him from across the bullpen, and Jimmy was almost at the end, about to turn the corner toward the elevators. About to go home to Breena. He bit the inside of his lip to keep himself from speaking. _Don't blow things out of proportion._

"Are you nervous, Jimmy?"

Nervous about the marriage, the impending doom that was his wedding kiss, the hands that he held loosely in his own, the unlocked and very translucent autopsy door, himself.

"_Yeah."_

She had leaned in then. His breath hitched in his throat and stayed there, immobile. Her eyes fluttered shut, he must have been turning red, or blue, or purple, or white, from lack of oxygen and logical thought and excess of carbon dioxide and nerves, and she turned her head and brushed her lips against his cheek and his mind went blank and she smiled at him with her small glossy lips pressed together and he thought, if his wedding kiss was that, just like that, he would have nothing and everything to worry about all at once.

"_Don't be. You will be fine."_

He wished he was fine. He was never fine. "Fine" was another one of those words that had never been in his vocabulary. He was always excited, or nervous, or embarrassed, or stressed, but never "fine." "Fine" was plain, and boring, and _normal._

Normal people did not look forward to intimate physical contact with another woman while they were engaged.

Normal people didn't slow their walks as they made to pass by a person of interest, hoping they would say something, anything at all, and secretly knowing they wouldn't.

Normal, for Jimmy Palmer, was not normal.

He passed by the far wall of the bullpen and exhaled softly. Had he been holding his breath that whole time? It sure felt like it. With his head hanging toward his chest, he skulked over toward the elevator, traveling the long road home to his fiancée.

"Goodnight, Jimmy!"

"HaveagoodnightZiva!" He screwed up his eyes and hit the "down" button as fast as he could, embarrassed at his obviously earnest attitude, yet pleased, because she had acknowledged him, and sad that his last chance of letting it go had flown out the window.

Tony eyed Ziva from across the bullpen, leaning back in his chair. "What was that all about?"

Ziva smiled and shrugged noncommittally.

"He completely ignored me!"

Ziva shot a look to McGee, who looked amused—whether he was listening to their exchange or still thinking about Jimmy's conspicuous exit was unknown to her, but she shared his amusement. "Do you know what they say about boys who are mean, Tony?"

He frowned. "No, what?"

"It means he likes you."

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><p><strong>Please review!<strong>


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